Page 100 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

Too fucking bad. I would have liked to see him try to come for us again.

It takes a lot for me to hate someone, but I trulyloathethe silver-haired man sitting in that chair like he’s ruling from his fucking throne.

The “king” spreads out his hands over the table. “By all means, Silas, tell the board what brought you down from on high to today’s meeting. Typically, we wouldn’t allow non-board members in the room, but since it seemed you were intent on attending, we thought we’d make an exception.”

From my angle, I can only see half of Silas’ face, but I catch the tight smile he offers his uncle. “You know as well as I do that Iama board member, and in fact, I ammorethan a board member. I am now half-owner of Bolton Steel, as is laid out in my father’s trust documents, which have remained unaltered since my childhood.”

The board members shift restlessly in their seats, refusing to meet his gaze, shuffling through papers and folders in front of them rather than have to acknowledge the statement he just made and what it means for everyone in the room.

Marty issues a low chuckle. “There must be some confusion, Silas. I very vividly remember you renouncing your inheritance right before you disappeared, so evenifwhat you say is true about the trust, you no longer have any claim to anything in it.”

I tighten my grip on the armrests of my chair, waiting for Silas to respond.

He calmly sits back in his chair, resting a hand on Whiskey’s head and stroking his fur. “Well, interestingly enough, Ronald assured me that legally speaking, averbalrenunciation isn’t sufficient. It needs to be in writing.” He gives his uncle a cold grin. “Apparently, things said in anger by teenagers aren’t binding in court.”

Marty’s jaw tightens, and a muscle there tics. He clenches a fist on the table.

Yes! Score one point for the good guys.

But the victory is short-lived.

Marty looks to one of the other men at the table and motions for something. The man opens a folder and hands him a single sheet of paper. “What yousaidmight not be, but this letter you wrote before you left town is…”

All the air gets sucked out of the room with the statement, and Silas’ gaze cuts to me—his blue eyes holding the same confusion rushing through me now.

What letter?

If there had been a letter, Silas would have told me. We would have prepared for this scenario. Ronald would have discussed ways around it—if any—when he prepared the plan with Silas.

Marty motions for Silas to come to take it, and Silas slowly pushes his chair back and rises, making his way down the long table with sure, steady steps I certainly couldn’t take right now with the way my knees are shaking.

Whiskey watches his every move but remains in his place beside the vacated chair, ready to move if he needs to in order to protect his master.

When Silas reaches the other end of the table, his uncle holds it out for him, and Silas snatches it from his hand and immediately reads it.

His eyes narrow, his mouth pressing into a thin line, knuckles whitening the more he reads. “I didn’t write this.” He holds it up so everyone in the room can see it and points to the short, three-sentence text and signature. “This is a forgery.”

A sneer twists Marty’s lips. “Not according to the court. I filed a copy with them yesterday, in reference to the trust, in case there was any question as to whether or not you would inherit under it.”

The anger that’s been building since the moment that man stepped foot onto the mountain boils in my blood until I can’t stay silent anymore. “You lying bastard!”

Everyone’s eyes dart over to me, and Marty offers a sinister smile.

“Lyla, my dear. So nice of you to join us today.”

Silas immediately closes the distance between him and his uncle and grabs his shirt, lifting the smaller man straight from his chair easily. “You don’t fucking talk to my wife. You don’tlookat her. And you sure ashellnevertouchher again.”

Whiskey gets to his feet, his snarl ripping through the room, matching that of his master.

Marty holds up his hands in surrender, but that same little grin plays on his lips that tells me that he has something else up his sleeve besides the bandage. “Such violence, Silas. Is this really the way you handle yourself? It isn’t a very good look for a Bolton.” His eyes roam over his nephew. “Though, apparently, your appearance hasn’t been a concern for you for a very long time…”

Silas releases him and retreats, his hands fisted at his sides. He backs away from his uncle toward me until he’s standing next to me and can tug me up against him. Whiskey shifts over to us and sits directly in front, creating a protective barrier against the man who clearly has an agenda today.

“I didn’t come here to threaten you, Uncle Marty.” Silas’ voice comes steady and calm despite what just happened. “I came to tell the board the truth about you and to take what’s rightfully mine.”

The low chuckle that falls from Marty’s lips fills my veins with ice. “The truth aboutme?” He scans the board members, who still sit in utter silence, too afraid to speak or move. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Silas, but I can assure you, this board doesn’t want to hear your wild accusations. They have no bearing on anything related to Bolton Steel, and you have no say in anything having to do with the company, even if you complied with the trust terms, since you’ve renounced your inheritance.”

He lifts the letter and shakes it smugly.

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